Conferenza Mondiale - Italy x (country)reader
by plant.exe
Summary: It's another unexciting, dull day of discussing important matters at the world conference—until you do something about it. [one-shot]


You sighed. Fixing a wrinkle in your office skirt, you tried to focus on what the current world meeting topic of importance was.

Okay, who were you kidding? Nobody found half of these subjects interesting, let alone important. Besides, England and France were starting up another ruckus with their voices (and intense sexual tension) raised. They should really just get a room already.

"Cheddar is obviously superior to your barmy cheese, frog face," England started.

"Mais non, Camembert is ze better-known cheese. Right, Romano?" France asked, patting South Italy on his shoulder.

"Parmigiano-Reggiano can-a kick all of your asses." he grumped, giving a deathly stare to France's invading hand; as if he could burn it with sheer willpower.

"Loviii~ Stop arguing and sit on my lap, sí?" Spain grabbed his arm—he would not take 'no' for an answer.

"Keep your dago lover boy in the bedroom, would you, South Italy?" England spit back. His and the Spanish man's countries didn't exactly have the cleanest of histories with each other considering bloodshed.

Gasps were heard at the mentioning of the slur and glances were passed. He'd gone a bit too far this time.

"Hey! You do not talk to my boyfriend like-a that!" Romano exclaimed, standing up from his seat and spreading both of his arms in front of Spain, as if to protect him.

"It's okay, Lovi. I don't mind, I can take it," Spain tried, getting his little tomato to calm down and seated in his chair again with a lot of protest and trouble. America asked the Brit why he would say such a thing without provocation.

This was how pretty much every world meeting went—aside from these moments, it was a huge snore fest. America suggested every silly idea he'd come up with, and Germany sighed. He seemed to do that a lot during these conferences, having given up trying to get everyone to follow the simple rules. They stayed in line at first, but it always ended up in chaos anyway.

You and Italy often had little conversations by passing notes, Prussia hid under the giant table 'cause he wasn't even a country anymore and Belgium shared her great pralines with everyone. Even Japan gave up, passing time by making origami swans.

Currently, global warming was being discussed. More like global _boring_. Sneaking a glance at Feli seated next to you, you saw he fell asleep and was snoring softly. The drool was kinda gross, but still. Absolutely adorable.

After watching Russia take about 5 shots of vodka and France braid his own hair, you got restless. _Really_ restless. If you didn't do something wild and uncalled for soon, you would probably chew through your hand out of anxiety. You considered catapulting a pencil at Sweden sitting opposite to you, but that meant death; spilling your coffee just to have something to clean up seemed a waste of perfectly good food and texting during a meeting? _Really?_ There are limits to how much you can disrespect the person talking.

In a moment of despair, you gave up rational thought and stood up from your seat, crawled onto the huge tabletop and pushed aside all of the documents and drinks, spilling some. You laid down, and started rolling around. Everyone stared. Some of them probably at your exposed panties.

"Bella, wait up!" Italy hurriedly called out, also crawling onto the table and rolling over to where you lay. A few countries thought it looked fun apparently, and joined in. Prussia even blew his cover to find out what the fuck you were doing.

Pretty soon, everyone was acting like 5-year-olds and bumping over glasses of water and creasing documents, laughing gleefully in joy. Germany looked devastated, but gave in anyway. You grabbed your phone and recorded it—no way were you missing out on this chance to blackmail him.

Pressing the post button on your phone, someone bumped into you.

"Ah, sorry pucci! I didn't mean to hurt you!" Feli quickly apologised.

He was just so _cute_! You had to do something. And that something was hugging him. Wrapping your arms around his back, you said that it was okay. When you let go you could see his cheeks were coloured a rosy red.

America shouted in his hero voice that the conference was totally over. Things finally started calming down.

"The cleaning lady is sure going to have her hands full, huh (y/n)? I definitely don't want to be here when she shows up~ What if her reaction is worse than that one time I brought a stray dog into our house and Lovi's—" Romano clamped a hand over his brother's mouth before he could finish the sentence, and whacked him on the head with a stapler.

"What did I-a tell you about keeping your damn mouth shut, Feli?" his brother yelled, upset the story almost got leaked.

"It's okay, Romano! Really, I have no idea what could be so embarrassing about that situation anyway," you laughed, and grabbed Feli's arm to drag him to the parking lot.

"Molte grazie for saving me from my brother, bella!" Italy thanked you, unlocking his Ferrari.

"(your country's way of saying 'You're welcome'), Feli." You hugged him a second, longer time and opened your car door.

"Ah, I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me, Austria and Elizabeta in town at that really good sandwich shop? I'll pay for your food if you want!" He ruffled his hair and laughed a bit nervously.

You smiled. "Sure, Feli! I'd be glad to. Can I hitch a ride with you though?" Driving your car seemed too much of a hassle at the moment, even if you'd have to come back later to pick it up. Ironic.

You got into the sports car and sat down on the fancy leather after Italy agreed to drive you there. Starting up the car, he leaned over and pecked you on the cheek. With a giggle, you faced him and gave a sweet kiss in return. Both of you smiling like dorks, the car drove off to meet up and have lunch.

* * *

_Parmigiano-Reggiano_: Italian for Parmesan.

_Dago_: British ethnic slur for one from Spain. Commonly used to refer to Italians in the US.

_Bella_: Italian for 'beautiful'.

_Pucci_: Italian, used to express kindness and affection. Can mean whatever you want it to.

_Molte grazie_: Italian for 'thank you very much'.

* * *

**A/N**: im sorry if the title is incorrect i have absolutely no knowledge of italian hhah,, also if anyones wondering i ship usuk not fruk like suggested in this story (๑′w‵๑)

credit goes to retrotale on tumblr for the cover image


End file.
